


The Time That First Love Ended

by gigiree



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8907616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigiree/pseuds/gigiree
Summary: A really simple, and kind of sappy, Christmas fic. Marinette has set Christmas as a deadline for confessions to Adrien...too bad she's never been very good at dealing with deadlines.





	

__

  
—  
Christmas has become a self-imposed deadline. Its arbitrary, and partially motivated by the romance of the season and mostly motivated by Adrien’s apparent admiration of Ladybug.

It’s a deadline that arrives with merry anticipation and usually passes without resolution for Marinette’s quandary.

“ _This Christmas. I’ll tell Adrien everything.”_

She is fifteen when she meets the deadline with a half-done confession, entirely due to an accident.

“Chat…I’m so sorry. It was….I promise, it really was, an accident. I didn’t mean…I didn’t plan to…” She chokes out, the words sticking to her throat just as the snowflakes stick to her cheeks and her hair.

Ladybug’s suit does an excellent job of keeping her warm, but she can still feel herself shivering with nervousness. The chill of the unknown strikes frosty needles down her spine and the tears bead over her lashes as she watches Chat Noir.

He’s beautiful in the snowy night. Paris’ light is scintillating and pretty against the darkness of his suit. His eyes are wide, and his claws are gentle as they circle around her wrists.

“Ladybug…whatever it is. It’s fine. Tell me. I won’t…I’ll understand.” He says quietly, and his head tilts in earnest affection as he waits for her words to fully form.

Ladybug takes it to heart and shuts her eyes against the cold reality.

“I’m sorry. I saw you transform, Adrien."

And she keeps her eyes shut, the warm tears spilling over her raw and red cheeks. Even through her mask, she can feel the drops turn cold and piercing.

She feels the winter air circle her wrists again as he lets her go.

She knew this would happen. She knew he would leave and now she’d ruined it. Ruined it-

There’s that same rushing sound. The hair-raising, pulsing feel of magical chance and chaos that accompanies every transformation and de-transformation.

It takes so much courage, so much willful decision to pry open her eyes.

The tears that still remain blur his outline, but she can make out something powder blue waving slightly in the wind and golden hair shifting across green eyes.

Adrien stands before her. The biggest, shit-eating grin splayed across his cheeks. His laughter is loud as he engulfs her in a tight embrace.

“That’s it? Ladybug, oh god. I’m so glad that’s all it is. I’m so happy. You were worrying me.” He says quietly over her head.

She barks out a watery laugh into his black pea coat, the scarf she had given him long ago was now a little threadbare with use, but it was soft and warm against her cheek.

Relief and decision suffuse her expression as she steps away.

It’s Adrien’s turn to be surprised when she gives a soft smile and mouths something that sounds like “Spots off, Tikki.”

That same magic tickles his nose and it’s red light is so bright, he has to close his eyes against the sparkling atmosphere.

And when he opens them again, Ladybug is Marinette. And she stands there with half-smiling worry in a coat as red as her cheeks.

“Merry Christmas, Kitty.”

“Merry Christmas, Marinette.”

And it’s not everything that she’s divulged, but it’s more than enough for now when he’s struck speechless and his hands come to cover his flushed face as he tells himself how obvious it should have been.

They laugh. They cry a bit more. And the deadline passes with a wonderful friendship made whole.  
—  
Her second deadline passes by in merry abandon.

For all Marinette’s sweetly merited popularity, she can count her number of best friends on one hand. Or to be precise, on three fingers.

Alya, Nino and Adrien.

The night drifts into a palpable lattice of warmth and enjoyment. Empty mugs litter the coffee table, ringing the crooked Monopoly board. The strains of Christmas carols float tenderly through the Dupain-Cheng living room.

Marinette finds her blessings wrapped cozily in varying degrees of red and green blankets, sprawled across the loveseat and soft carpet with expressions of sated joy.

Her best friends, chattering idly as the Yule Log crackles in the fireplace.

(Sabine and Tom have graciously declined the game invite and had gone to bed early.)

Marinette is driven out of her thankful reverie by an impatient sigh.

“Hurry up!” Nino chides her for holding up the game, and he hands her the dice with a bemused expression that softens his words.

She laughs and the deadline looms a little menacingly today as she catches Adrien’s cheerful gaze. She pulls a card out of her Ladybug book, and shoots him a wink as she proceeds to roll the dice.

“Five and two. Seven. Okay.” Marinette says a little lazily, and she spreads her hand and wriggles her fingers to reach for her thimble piece. She pouts a little, and gives Alya a plaintive stare.

Adrien chuckles as Alya rolls her eyes and moves the piece seven places for Marinette.

“Holy crap! Marvin Gardens!” Alya declares. “You were one away from the Go to Jail square, dammit.”

Marinette shrugs, her shoulders shifting underneath the slightly itchy ugly green sweater she has on.

“Don’t know, maybe I’m just really lucky!” She says blithely.

The secret smile she shares with Adrien goes unnoticed by the other two.

The night marches on and eventually the game is called to an end when Alya finds herself nodding off for the third time in a row.

Nino wins, but that’s probably because he was the only one seriously paying attention to it.

The snow isn’t falling very hard by the time they’re at the foyer. Alya gives Marinette a suffocating hug, before her traditional holiday noogie.

“I’ll see you tomorrow after le reveillon, okay?”

Marinette nods a little blearily because she had been falling asleep too, and she’d just woken up enough to walk everyone to the door.

“Are you sure you guys don’t want to sleep over?” Marinette offers for the third time that night, and again the same excuses of family and tradition and worried maiden aunts comes across in a litany.

“Okay. Okay. Both of you text me when you’re home.”

“I can give you guys a ride? Gorilla said he’d be here in twenty minutes.” Adrien also offers for the third time that night.

Nino and Alya share exasperated glances and again, sternly refuse the offer.

“We’re fine. I’m sure Gorilla has a few holiday parties he has to attend too, right? Let’s not take up his time.”

“Bu-”

“Adrien, thanks. You really are a great friend. But we’re good. It’s not a far walk for either of us and I want some one on one time with my girlfriend.”

That seems to do the trick, because Adrien’s face reddens considerably, and he looks a little sheepish as he says his merry well-wishes to the departing couple.

“Well, shall we, My Lady?” Nino asks Alya, and then proceeds to thread his arm through hers as the walk out the door.

“Onward, my bespectacled knight.” Alya quips, and gives one last wave at the remaining pair before stepping out the door and into the frigid night.

The door closes with the pealing of bells attached to the wreath hung outside.

“Well that was kind of sudden. They stayed longer last year.” Marinette remarks.

“Yeah. They were being a little weird.” Adrien says.

He notices that she wraps the flannel blanket more tightly around her. The downstairs bakery isn’t blessed by the heating system from upstairs. He quickly suggest going back before she gets a cold.

She smiles sweetly, her blue eyes glittering underneath the soft, golden lights that weave their way over the stair railing.

They quietly make their way up the stairs and into her haphazardly decorated room. They pause in the living room, just to put on their boots and jackets. Adrien follows expertly, knowing just where to find the opening to the upstairs deck.

The rooftop has long becomes somewhere special to these two.

This time of year, there’s piles of fresh snow strewn everywhere. The few planters are filled with bare branches and the same fairy lights ring the railing as always.

There’s two lawn chairs now, one orange and the other a garish pink. Marinette uses the corner of her blanket to clear off any residual snow.

Adrien follows suit with the edge of his green cashmere scarf. He laughs at Marinette’s reproachful glare.

“It’s Hermes.” She whines.

“It’s one of twenty. I’d rather use this to clean up the snow than any of the ones that you’ve given me.”

She pauses for a bit, biting her lip as she mulls over what she wants to say next.

Christmas Day is here. Her deadline has come. And it has to be now, or wait another year, because Christmas Day is one reserved for family and traditions. It’s already a miracle she got to keep Adrien’s company this long.

She’d seen the number of times he’d had to check his phone or answer a text.

Gabriel Agreste may be a wonderful designer, but his love for his son seemed to be a suffocating, anxious love and it was lucky for her that he’d let Adrien spend Christmas Eve here.

The lights cast golden halos across his hair, and he reclines in a manner most graceful against the gaudy pink chair as his breath curls into misty condensation.

He’s beautiful. His affection and his friendship. All of him is beautiful in its sincerity. It’s why she fell for him so long ago.

Quiet suffuses the air between them, filled with nothing but the cold quiet of falling snow.

The deadline stretches and she breathes a sigh of despair when Adrien’s ringtone breaks the silence with a pop-rock Japanese song.

She starts laughing because it’s so obviously Adrien to have a Naruto theme song as his ringtone and Adrien laughingly shakes his head as he answers the phone.

Marinette stifles her laughter behind her cold fingertips.

“Fighting….Fighting Dreamers, oh my god.” She whispers and Adrien nearly breaks trying to give serious answers to whoever he’s talking to.

“Y-yes. S-ure. I’ll be waiting…pfft…n-no, nothing. See you soon.”

“Yeah. He’ll be there. Believe it.” She mutters loud enough for him to hear.

Mercifully, Gorilla grunts a farewell and Adrien just manages to hang up before he practically breaks apart into a pile of shaking laughter.

His guffaws are loose and wild as they echo across the rooftops and Marinette finds herself laughing just as loud. Partially because of the situation and mostly because of the ridiculous wheezing that punctuates Adrien’s giggles.

Off in the distance, the bells ring the hour with that same merry abandon.

Still laughing, they head inside, only to notice something they hadn’t before.

Hanging just above them on the half-closed hatch, was mistletoe.

There’s a sharp skip to their laughter, a breathlessness that leaves them waiting as the plant and red ribbon sways innocently above them.

Adrien is closest to it, on a higher step in the ladder than Marinette.

“That…w-was that there before?”

“N-no. I…I didn’t p-put it there.” Marinette stutters out, her cheeks coloring for more reasons than the cold. Her eyes dart between the swaying mistletoe and up at Adrien, who’s crested prettily with melting snow.

It clicks swiftly in her head and his just who is responsible.

“Alya.”

“Nino.”

They say this at the same time, glance at the innocuous plant again and then groan.

“Both.”

The awkwardness stretches between them, and Marinette can feel this being such a perfectly outlines deadline. Something that’s manifesting embarrassingly right before her very eyes.

But she’s still so afraid, and her heart quivers with expectations and fear as something strange turns Adrien’s eyes into flint.

“It’s tradition, right? Bad luck if we don’t follow through. And you know, Chat Noir can’t really afford anymore bad luck, my Lady.” He says very gently, even as his eyes blaze.

“R-right. ummm…”

Marinette goes up one step. Adrien comes down one.

And he takes a good look at the fear in her eyes and takes it to mean something entirely different than she intends.

His eyes widen, bringing the light from earlier back into them as he pulls back a bit and starts waving his arms.

“Oh god, no. I’m sorry if that came off as too weird. I mean, I was only joking, Marinette. You don’t have t-”

He’s shut up when Marinette surges forward and bravely grazes her lips on his warm cheek.

He gapes at her as she pulls away, fidgeting with the edge of her coat. He brings a hand to where she’d kissed him, and feels his heart skip a beat when she smiles up at him.

“Merry Christmas, Kitty.”

And so, the deadline passes without a resolution once more. Later on Christmas Day, Marinette nearly screams in consternation in the middle of mass when Alya texts her-

So?! How was the kiss?  
—  
The third deadline comes without much fanfare. The Agrestes spend the holidays in Aspen and Marinette quietly watches Christmas Specials with her mother and father as the snow falls with a bittersweet expectation for another year to pass.

The months in between the deadlines have always been filled with progress…both on the battlefield and off.

And their last year of high school comes and goes, resolving itself into moments of camaraderie and friendship too precious to take for granted. There was the summer beach trip they all took together. The knitting lessons Adrien asked for, in return for helping her learn Mandarin. There were birthdays and rescues and potential love triangles all navigated with a sweet faithfulness kept secret by both parties.

Each day, she falls a little more in love with him.

Her class gets accepted into universities across the world. Some of them remain in France. She’s lucky enough to be granted a place at Paris’ biggest fashion institute.

And Adrien is talented enough to land a coveted spot in a top physics program…out of Paris. Out of the country for that matter.

“Oh god, I’m so proud of you.” She tells him. And she really is, but there’s a hollow feeling of regret that twists and gnaws at her fears. All those missed deadlines lapse into a singular one and uncertainty is her only companion as she contemplates what it means for her and him.

Chat Noir asks if she’s fine during that evening’s patrol.

Ladybug says yes.

“I’m going to miss this…I mean, I know everything’s already settled and fixed, so you won’t have to worry about akuma all by yourself…but I’ll miss this. Being here with you.”

She shudders against the cold of the reality eking into his statement. There’s an expectation that he holds, something he wants her to say, but she doesn’t answer it.

She merely smiles in that easily mystifying way she does when she’s Ladybug and threads her fingers through his.

“Are you sure…you’re okay?”

“I am. I promise.” She answers quietly.

Adrien knows Marinette is lying, but he keeps wisely silent.  
—

The fourth deadline is the final one, wrought in a nasty bit of necessity that still has Marinette reeling.

Her frigid fingers struggle to scroll through her various messages. Alya’s worried inquiries and Nino’s earnest pleas sound just as loudly in text as they would in real life.

From Alya:  
Hurry! Everyone’s already said bye! You have an hour.

“I already said goodbye.” Marinette answers her outloud.

From:Nino  
Marinette, he’s waiting.

“I’m going.”

Dread sits heavy in the pit of her stomach, and she has to gulp in a bit of sharp, burning cold air to get a clear thought.

The city is beautiful this time of year. She’d never paid particular attention to it, but the lights are almost glaringly lovely settling softly beyond the slow flurries of snow that crest Paris.

She’s already steeled herself for this, feeling her resolutions wrapping her up in a lattice of fragile determination. Her deadline looms ever larger, and she clutches the silvery gift bag closer to her chest.

(It’s another homemade muffler, shining red.)

The chilly, winter breeze is nothing compared to the cold within her. There’s a willful ignorance in her that keeps on denying that this will be her last chance. It had been a long Fall semester, but in the end he had come back for the holidays.

And it had been a long, joyous three weeks. Everything had felt in place, as if he had never left and her blessings had united for one more Christmas Eve of simple fun. The days had passed and Christmas was yesterday.

But her deadline is forced to fruition because he’d just announced his intent to stay through the spring and summer. Something about a research opportunity that was rarely given to freshmen and how could she not be proud of him. How could she not nod enthusiastically as everyone cheered him on?

She was sincerely happy for him, but already she had found her memories of him slipping through her fingers. It had only been a scant six months they had been separated, but already she felt time seeping away the lustre of previously assured happiness.

The vividness of the multi-colored lights on the various trees brings to mind reality again. The boulevard is starkly gorgeous, lined with leafless trees and golden garlands across the lampposts. The night is festive, and it fills her heart with a bittersweetness she can barely taste. She swallows back the tears pricking at her eyes.

“I won’t cry.” She encourages herself, as she digs her chin further into the collar of her white trench coat.

And all too soon, she manages to push past the holiday crowds at le Gare du nord. The rail station is also beautiful, and it’s grand design is almost foreboding, despite the enormous wreath that hangs above the main entrance. Her heart races as the old, large clock strikes seven. The huge hands slide forward with a finality sharp enough to pierce dreadfully into her resolve.

Her deadline will pass in ten minutes.

She is frantic then as she rushes past, apologies trailing from her as she shoves past a few people and nearly overturns a cart filled with luggage.

The station numbers, wreathed in red and silver, flash past her avid eyes as she looks for Adrien’s departure platform.

Finally, time decides to be kind to her.

There he stands,mercifully alone, holding tight onto the handle of a rolling suitcase, and looking crestfallen as he searches through the crowds.

She hopes against all hope that he’s looking for her.

(He is. Of course, he is. He’s always looking for her, no matter what mask she decides to wear.)

His sadness melts away, like snow in warm hands, as he sees her.

“Marinette!” He calls.

It’s with all the familiarity of their partnership and years of friendship that she runs and embraces him. She winces as she hears the loud crinkling of the giftbag between them.

He doesn’t seem to notice it. He’s beaming down at her, green eyes glowing more beautifully than the city outside ever could.

‘Thank you for missing me. I love you.’

These thoughts pound through her head, a confession becoming a mantra she’s practiced for so long.

The world begins spinning. She wonders if she’s going to faint for a moment, but no it’s actually spinning.

She’s barely noticing beyond all the noise in her head that Adrien’s embrace has become warm and consuming as holds her close and twirls with her in his arms.

It’s so stupidly cliche. His happiness gives her fresh pain. This is supposed to be a departure, but he’s merely so relieved to have her here in these last few moments that he’s spinning her and the tears almost fall then.

But she swallows them back and she can definitely taste the acrid sadness now. It numbs her tongue and makes words stick to the roof of her mouth again.

They spin and her hair falls loosely from the red ribbons she’s tied it with, tendrils floating behind her.

He’s positively grinning as they slow down and he carefully sets her on her feet. He holds her for a moment to make sure she’s not dizzy, and then his warm hands slide gently down her arms until they lace with her own pink-tipped fingers.

“You’re here.” He says.

“I’m here.” She smiles shyly.

There’s that expectation there again, and she doesn’t know what to do. She hugs the crushed gift bag closer to her, and now he seems to notice.

“Is that…is that for me?” He asks quietly, and she nods mutely. She can’t trust her voice very well.

He delicately reaches for the bag, and she hands it over with shaking hands because in her mind this is the final tether.

The last thing winding around them to keep them in this moment before he leaves.

He carefully opens the wrinkled bag, folding aside the tissue paper to pull out her wonderfully woven present.

It’s just as soft as the first scarf she’d given him, but the pattern is a complicated cable knit weave that took weeks to get right. The fringes are even and numerous and they hang cheerfully when Adrien wraps the scarf excitedly around his neck.

She’d chosen red yarn to bring out his eyes. She almost regrets it because they do stand out now, clear and scintillating with emotions she’s not sure she wants to know.

“It’s really warm, Marinette. Thank you.” He tells her, the edges of his eyes crinkling with genuine gratitude. “I have a present for you too. I should have given it earlier, but I didn’t…I was hoping you’d be here.”

He steps forward and Marinette is frozen in place, emotions roiling within her until she can barely breathe.

“I’m…I’m really glad I met you.” She spits out, words unspooling from her loosely spinning mind. She keeps her eyes on her black boots, noting the rivulets of melting snow that spill down the sides. “It’s uh…you’re going so far away. I know…I know it’s still Europe. Zurich is in Europe, right? Ah…ha ha..of course it is.”

' _Come on, Marinette. Say it.’_

“Marinette…” Adrien calls her, but she’s too far involved. Her head snaps up to look fully at him, and the tears are beading at the edges of her eyes and they are wide as she hopes that he can read everything she wants to say in them.

“I don’t…I…”

_'I’d go back and do it all over again, no matter what. Even if it hurts to say goodbye.’_

The expectation in his eyes solidifies at that, and she doesn’t notice not this time. The distant whistle of the incoming train lets her know her time has run out.

That same denial from earlier prompts her to grab onto his hands, warmth seeking warmth as she stubbornly refuses to say good bye.

“If you have to go, you need to know that I…”

Gathering every single last drop of courage she has, she let’s it well up in her chest and flow through her until it finally dislodges the most important words from her throat and she can let them free.

“You know I-”

Their lips collide, the seconds slow and the distance between them shrinks down to zero.

She shuts her eyes, reality too stark to fully take in as he kisses her. Her arms have somehow wounds around his back, fingers digging into the red of his scarf and gray of his jacket.

And she can feel his hand cradling her head, fingers threaded through her loose hair. His lips are chapped and rough. The kiss is inexperienced and chaste, but it’s warm and it floods her with overwhelming and contrasting feelings.

When they separate, there’s not much more to be said.

The feelings are there, but just to make sure he tells her.

“I love you.”

He says it with such a gentle tone , the words falling so easily to rest in her heart and her tears spill over once more.

The whistle sounds again, drowning out her own confession. But she pulls him down for another kiss, tasting their sadness and happiness intermingling into the most precious sweetness.

His lips move to her flushed cheeks, kissing the tears away with bubbling laughter.

Marinette keeps her eyes shut, but she can feel everything else. But Time is unkind, and the final call for boarding the train is announced over the intercom.

The deadline is passed, and she’s crossed it with a finality that is both heart-breaking and hopeful as she watches the train leave the station.

Adrien’s hand is pressed against the window, his smile soft and his eyes teary as lurches away.

The wind behind the train buffets her hair and the clumsily knit black scarf that’s wound loosely around her neck.

And as the train rounds the bend, she begins to wonder how the next year will unravel. There’s a hope that blooms lightly, that no matter how far apart they are, that time will be kind to their feelings.

**Author's Note:**

> Le reveillon is usually used to mean Christmas Eve, but it's meant to describe the Christmas dinner that's eaten at midnight or Christmas morning after mass.


End file.
